Morning journal and courier., 1887-05-30
The Ceremonies on Decoration Day.

The dirges played ever so sweetly above the hiding sod will waken no echo in the dull, cold ear of death. The ivy wreaths, the dainty garlands, the wealth of fragrant blossoms, and all the ministry of affection lavished upon the closing tomb carry no mes sage from the loving hearts of the living to those who have passed beyond the earthly vision. There is break in the innumerable caravan at the river; those on the other side, even if they have left behind them the rich est memories of faithful service, can send which heralded the reward of their self denying labors as their feet touched the fur ther shore; nor can the falling tears, the glowing eulogies, the sculptured marbles, the memorial offerings with which those who have yet to cross seek to solace their bereaved and aching hearts find single messenger to carry these tributes to that supernal sphere. The vast procession goes on, but there is no communication between the dividing shores.
 If all that is done as a testimony of respect to departed worth be anything more than hollow noekery, it must be designed solely for it's lessons to those who yet survive. The annual pilgrimage to the grave of the hero is 8 perpetual rebuke of selfish indolence and an eloquent witness to the fact that service and sacrifice are all that can enneble human life. The leader of the army and the hum- blest private who stood faithfully at his post amid the flying shafts receive alike the loving ministry from grateful hearts, and this but emphasizes the truth that faithfulness and not the station is the standard of worth.
 In covering the unnamed graves with the same sweet tokens of affection that are laid above the nearest friends there is hint that nothing of earnest devotion to truth shall ever go unrewarded. It may be a careless hand that scatters the flowers, but they bloom as brightly on the little mound whose simple headstone is without inscription as on the costlier urn which is rich in epitaphs. It is parable whose full interpretation will be sounded in every ear when that day of final rewards shall dawn, and the unhonored of earth, and the unsung in the annals of he- roes shall be summoned to higher seats and richer crowns than await those the world has entitled great.
 There is another lesson no less worthy to be learned, but it comes in gentler tones and is not heard by every ear. We lay aside pas sion and prejudice at the portals of the grave and weep for those who have left us as if they had never been the objects of suspic- ion or hatred and we had never charged them with wringing our hearts with anguish. We pile the green mounds and the marble and granite blocks with the fragrant memorials of our affection, and would fain hope that those thus cherished in our hearts have for gotten our cold words, our averted looks, our refusals of fellowship while they were with us.
 If we have offended those who are gone, no word of forgiveness can come out of the ol ,1, so1, of penitence. And if they have injured us and we withheld our loving word until they passed from our sight, no after heartache of ours over the wasted opportunity, no requim above the ear now deaf, can stir the pulses of that heart we would not bless with our char ity while this was within our gift.
 This is the solemn but unspoken warning that comes from every life now silent in the grave. It asks us not to keep our kisses for the dead. It pleads for tenderness and kind ly sympathy toward those who are still at our side. They annoy us perhaps, for they are human; they offend us daily, it may be, for they are not perfect. They tax our for just to us. But the grave is only little way before us all. When the face that frowned upon us is white and cold, and the lip that mecked us or said cruel things to vex us is forever silent, and the hand that menaced us has lost it's hold on earth, will it be any com IOrt TOT us that we resented the injury anu re- turned scorn for scorn?
 Perhaps the fault is not all on one side. It may be that to iuster judgment we have sinned the most in these petty conflicts. But if we have not and if the wrong has been wholly unprovoked, we shall do we'll to an- ticipate the day when the fatal shore divides us and look just now into the eyes we shun with something of that tender, forgiving spirit we fain would show when we bend above the unanswering clay. Let us not wait for our friends and neighbors to die before we cover them with flowers. Let us make our present fellowship fra grant offering that shall be part of their life, and thus survive in memory beyond the tomb. This is decoration. endowed with | immortality. It is not flower that fades with an undelivered message above the decay of the tomb, but perennial blossom gifted | by the chemistry of the heart with perpetual beauty and fragrance through the eternal ] years.